I looked up DeChambeau on the internet. Apparently he’s a golfer and wants to play golf with me.
He seems pretty cool — his video of him playing with Trump got him a gazillion views and tons of subscribers. He’s easy on the eyes, too. I was seriously considering doing it, and went to the staff today to ask their thoughts.
“Should we do it?” I asked.
“No, Harris, no.”
“How hard can it be? Trump wins everything. I heard sometimes the secret service throws his ball out of bunkers, into the fairway…helps him out a bit.”
“Maybe so, Harris. But Trump is a great golfer. At one of his clubs, he won the Club Championship, the Senior Club Championship, the Super Senior Club Championship — and the Club gave him the Most Improved Golfer of the year award, also. You do not want to get into a golf match with him, with Bryson, or with anyone.”
“But, if the secret service throws his balls out of the rough, on the fairway, moves them closer to the hole… couldn’t they do that for me?” I turned to the very masculine, very strong-looking secret service officer in the room when I asked that question, directing it at him.
The secret service agent exclaims a clear and emphatic no. Weird. I shake my head. I don’t understand. And, I ask “Why not..!!??” also emphatically; I can do emphatic too.
“I don’t think I should say, Madame.”
Tell me, I say.
“Well, ok… first of all, most secret service agents think the Democrats cheat too much already and…” he stops, with a slight grin…, “and…” he stopped again.
“Go ahead— whatever you have to say, just say it…” I glare but he continues…
“Well, if Trumps ball is moved at all, I’m guessing the main reason the men and women do it for Trump is they like the guy. They want him to have fun and enjoy his rounds. They know he’s a good golfer, and they think moving the ball a bit is no big deal — it just makes everyone a little bit happier, and they genuinely like him. He’s nice to them; he treats them well. He’s done so much…sacrifices so much… if they can do a small thing like moving his ball a bit in the rough to give him a good lie, or a few inches here or there — a little tiny payback to make his day just a tiny bit nicer… it’s a small thing, really — but they can do it for him. So they do. Because they like him.”
I continue to glare. What is he insinuating? And, I finally respond, “so you don’t think they would move my ball for me? I’ve done a lot for this country. Don’t I deserve a little payback…?”
The agent looked at me but had no response.
“Well…? I am now demanding a response for the questions I have presented. Now.” Emphatically.
“You know. I may have misspoken a bit. You’re right. You have done a lot to this country, Madame Vice President. And, you have a secret service detail who spend a good deal of time with you and likely would want to pay you back. I may have been wrong. It’s possible if you took up golf, your detail would move the ball for you.”
I smiled. I won.
And then he continued, “it’s likely, Madame VP, and my best guess after this discussion — is that you would drive the ball perfectly in the middle of the fairway — and when you drove up to your ball, you would most likely find it buried in the bunker.”
He smirks. Gotta admit… I didn’t like that. I know it’s hard to get good help these days, but…
We good? No. No good. No good at all.